Under the Boardwalk (Costas Sisters 1)

Connor’s fathomless stare told Quinn he didn’t believe him for a second.

“And I made her swear she’d go home.”

“Think she’ll listen?” Connor asked.

Quinn nodded. “Without a doubt. She didn’t strike me as headstrong like Zoe.” Instead she was softer and more vulnerable.

And the fact that Zoe had faked her death, no matter how noble the reason, would hurt Ari. Normally Quinn lied without blinking, but he hadn’t been able to forget the pain in Ari’s eyes or the hope he’d seen when he’d admitted her sister was alive. He didn’t want to be around when Ari found out the disappearance was a deliberate hoax. Ari would probably want to kill her sister all over again, unlike the rest of her eccentric family, who’d probably applaud the charade.

Zoe had once regaled him with stories and just the thought of their strange, large family made Quinn, the poster child for dysfunctional childhood and solitary living, break out in hives.

He shuddered and, after a quick glance at his watch, turned his attention back to Connor. “So what’s happening on your end?”

“Just some basic bartending. Nothing out of the ordinary. Unless you count one pain-in-the-ass waitress,” Connor muttered.

“Is Maria still busting your balls?”

“No woman busts them unless I let her.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Did I hit a soft spot? For a woman?” he asked in disbelief.

“You mention Maria, I push harder on the subject of how Ariana Costas got to you, my friend. The choice is yours.” His partner leaned across the table, a menacing look crossing his face.

Too bad for Connor, that expression only worked on the criminals and coworkers who didn’t know him as well as Quinn. Quinn rubbed his hands together in anticipation of ribbing Connor further. Until his friend’s words sank in. Under threat of having his sudden, unexpected feelings for Ari uncovered and dissected, Quinn would have to back off.

“I’ve gotta go.” He stood and pulled his keys from his jacket pocket.

“Glad we understand each other,” Connor said, his shoulders more relaxed now that Maria’s name was out of the discussion.

Quinn shook his head and stifled a laugh. He consoled himself with the notion that by tomorrow, Maria would still be around making Connor squirm, while for Quinn, Ari would be a distant memory.

The next night, Connor stood behind the bar at Damon’s mixing cocktails. The drink, a Cosmo in a brandy snifter with extra ice, ordered by a man in a large black cowboy hat, had him preoccupied until a sixth sense prickled the back of his neck.

Not one to ignore his gut, since it had kept him alive when he was a kid and again on the force, he raised his gaze. Taking in the sight of the woman who had to be Zoe’s twin, Connor let out a slow whistle. Quinn was going to be pissed as hell, Connor thought.

He served the cowboy with the New York accent his drink along with a glass of ice water, no lemon, for the man’s wife, before turning his attention to Ariana. She wore tight-fitting black leather pants and a bright red sweater that would be conservative if not for the low-cut V-neck that showed off her ample cleavage and a hint of white lace.

Instead of Zoe’s jet black hair, hers had an auburn tint, and where her sister’s flowed down her back, Ariana’s brushed her shoulders in a chic cut that emphasized her olive skin and intense green eyes.

He could see why his best friend had fallen for her at a glance. Even if Quinn wasn’t ready to admit it just yet. “What can I get you?” Connor asked, making a show of wiping down a bar glass as he spoke.

“Gray Goose on the rocks with a lime.” She pursed her lips together in thought. “And information.”

Because Connor was a trained professional, he caught the nearly imperceptible tremor in her voice. Still, he got to work on her request and mulled over her statement. Though he didn’t know why she was here, he expected her to get the lay of the land and ask subtle questions. The kind he’d have no trouble accommodating. He needed to get a solid handle on her, since Quinn had already proven himself less than able to predict this woman’s actions, Connor thought, holding back a chuckle.

“So how long have you been working here?” she asked.

“About a year and a half. Why?” He slid the drink across the bar on a cocktail napkin.

She shrugged. “Because my sister used to serve drinks here. I’m looking for people who saw her before she disappeared.”

So much for anticipating her behavior. The only expected thing so far had been her quivering voice. But despite her nerves, she’d gone right for the killer question.

He kept his tone casual as he asked, “What’s your sister’s name? There’s plenty of babes who work here and move on.”